


By the Light of Dawn

by sheriffandsteel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, arya stark deserves a happy fucking ending, spoilers for 8x03, that episode made me feel like i ran a marathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffandsteel/pseuds/sheriffandsteel
Summary: The Battle of Winterfell was over. In the early gray light of morning Arya searched through survivors looking for one familiar face.





	By the Light of Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 8x03 within.

When Jon came stumbling into the godswood Arya knew that it was not her face he was expecting to see. He had to have been expecting some fierce great warrior, one of the Unsullied or Brienne perhaps. He was not expecting to find his little sister, face covered in blood and dagger still clutched white knuckled in her hand. Jon kept a hand pressed tight to his side as his shocked eyes took in the mess of bodies in the godswood. His eyes paused on Theon before darting back over to Bran and Arya where they waited close together by the weirwood. 

“You did it.” Jon croaked out hoarsely before shuffling forward to pull Arya tightly to his chest. She could feel Bran’s hollow stare on her back as she numbly wrapped her arms around Jon’s middle, careful of the blade still in her grasp. “You saved us all.” Jon whispered into her hair before pulling back and staring at her with eyes like he had never truly seen her before. 

Her throat felt almost too swollen to talk after the Night King’s tight grip on her neck but Arya still managed to croak out. “Not all of us.” her eyes drifting of their own accord to Theon’s prone body. She hadn’t seen all of what happened once the Night King reached the godswood, she was too focused on being quiet as a shadow and calm as still water. But she had heard Theon’s animalistic yell and the spear protruding from his body left little room for her to imagine what had happened. He’d charged the Night King with only a spear and his life to protect Bran. Arya knew Theon had done many terrible things to her family and her people but she still felt a pang of sorrow looking at his body. She had grown up with him after all and he had given his life to protect her brother and, in a way, all of them. That carried weight with her. 

Jon looked back over his shoulder and she heard him swallow heavily. “Aye.” he whispered in agreement before pulling her back closer to his chest. “Not all of us.” 

They stood in silence for a long moment before the sounds of the survivors calling out to each other began to reach them as dawn slowly broke over the castle walls. 

“I have to find Daenerys.” Jon whispered softly after he pulled away from hugging Bran. 

“She’s out on the battle field.” Bran advised hollowly. “Follow Drogon.” 

Neither Arya nor Jon questioned how Bran knew this. They had both already accepted that their little brother was not entirely their brother anymore. 

“We need to find Sansa as well.” Jon said rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. Arya nodded as she sheathed her dagger. 

The hot terror of the night began to seep away as the light of dawn hit them and instead a cold chill took root in her belly. She had spent the night focused on surviving herself and then defeating the Night King that there hadn’t been much room for her to fear for other’s lives. Now though she felt like her lungs were being strangled by a snake and her heart began to speed up as she thought about who she might go out there to find that she had lost. 

“I’ll stay here.” Bran declared, his eyes drifting over to Theon’s body. “Until we can clear the godswood.” 

Arya nodded before leaning down to wrap her arms around her little brother. Moments like this showed her that somewhere deep down the Bran Stark she knew still lived on. Even in death he would not leave the man who would not leave him. 

“We’ll send someone quick as we can.” Jon said bending down to kiss Bran on the top of the head before he turned and cast one last look at their fallen comrades before leading the way out of the godswood. Arya followed him with her heart in her throat. Killing the Night King felt easier than walking back into the castle to see just how many had died that night. 

Jon was silent as they walked, their boots crunching in the snow and the noise of the courtyard growing louder with each step the only sounds between them. They were nearly to the entrance when Jon grabbed her hand and pulled her to a halt. 

“How did you do it?” he asked, his eyes full of wonder as he looked at her. “How did you manage to kill the Night King?” 

Arya looked at him for a long moment, her face steady in the mask of cool indifference she had adopted long ago. She wasn’t sure what answer Jon was hoping for; if he wanted actual technical ways or to learn how she had managed to sneak up on him and trick him to put a knife in his belly. The Night King had made the same mistake so many people who had wronged her in the past had. They looked at her and saw a small girl, someone easily beaten and not to be afraid of. Like so many others he had paid for that ignorance. These would all work as answers to Jon’s question but Arya decided to settle on the simplest truth of all. 

“Anyone can be killed.” 

Before Jon had the chance to respond a happy shout reached them and Arya stepped away from Jon just in time for a redheaded wildling to hit him like a cannon. The man wrapped his arms around Jon’s waist and lifted, swinging him in a circle, seemingly oblivious to the grunts of pain Jon was emitting. 

“You did it you damn crow!” the man cried before putting Jon down and beaming at him. 

“No Tormund. I didn’t.” Jon panted; his hand pressed tight to his side. A small smile reached his lips and Arya wasn’t sure if it was joy his friend was alive or pride at her as he nodded in her direction. “Arya did.” 

Tormund’s back was to her so Arya didn’t get to see the expression of shock and disbelief she was sure was on the man’s face and she pushed past him to head into the courtyard when she suddenly felt her feet lift off the ground. The man had grabbed her from behind and was now swinging her in a circle like he had been doing to Jon just moments before. It was only the grin on Jon’s face that she caught sight of every time Tormund swung her past him that kept her from drawing a blade on the man. 

“That’s enough.” Jon finally said after three spins and Tormund responded by dropping Arya like a bag of potatoes. She kept her feet easily and stepped backwards out of the man’s reach as he grinned at her wildly. 

“I have to go find the big woman.” Tormund suddenly declared, clapping Jon on the back before turning and rushing back into the courtyard. 

Arya adjusted her shirt from where his grip had pulled it askew. “Friend of yours?” she asked lightly. 

“Something like that.” Jon agreed before leading the way into the courtyard. 

The first thing that hit Arya was the smell. She was no stranger to the smell of death but even she had never smelled it so strong before. The scent of blood and human waste filled her noise as did rotting flesh as she surveyed the amount of bodies piled up near the walls. There were wights and fresh corpses mingled together and the once hard packed earth of the courtyard had been reduced to mud that was more red in color than brown. It squelched up around her boots with every step that she took. 

“Arya! Jon!” her sister’s familiar cry filled her ears and Arya turned to see Sansa speeding towards them, a wide smile on her face as she pulled them both towards her into her arms. As Arya wrapped her arm around her sister, she couldn’t help but marvel at how far they had come. There was a time when Sansa and her would never willingly hug each other, let alone when Arya could have gotten blood on Sansa’s dress. 

“Which of you did it?” Sansa asked as they all pulled apart, her blue eyes darting from Arya to Jon expectedly. Arya felt an unexpected warm rush of gratitude for her sister. She hadn’t killed the Night King to receive recognition or praise but it was nice for someone to look at her and Jon leaving the godswood and not automatically assume it was Jon who had defeated him. 

“Arya. It was all Arya.” Jon said the pride in his voice unmistakable as Sansa beamed down at her. Arya squirmed uncomfortably at the attention though she did her best to mask it. She felt her features shift back into cold indifference as she realized Jon’s comment had given them an audience. 

It seemed as if every face within hearing distance was now turned towards them, staring at her in some form of shock or awe. There were a few faces bordering on sheer disbelief and Arya knew it was people like that who would be just as easily defeated as the Night King was in his final moments. Arya ignored those faces and instead focused on looking for people she knew. She felt some of the tight coil in her chest loosen with every familiar face she spotted. 

There was Brienne smiling widely at her even with the blood coating her body like a second skin and the strange way her arm was hanging. The Hound was off to the side, arms crossed tightly over his chest like all of this was beneath him but when he caught her looking at him, he gave her the smallest of nods. Arya knew that was the most of a thanks she was going to get from the man which was a relief to her. She was fully aware that she wouldn’t have made it out of the castle alive to kill the Night King without the Hound and Beric’s help just as she also knew that the Hound and her would never speak of it. Daavos was approaching them with a shocked smile on his face as he looked at Arya. Though she didn’t know the man well she knew that the shock was more about the fact that they had survived than that she had been the one to defeat the Night King. He had seen her fighting the wights after all. He had an idea of what she was capable of. 

Yet with every face she took in Arya had yet to see the one face she was truly looking for. She had closed her heart off to him the moment they had parted ways in the forge, one last desperate kiss between them like they could put everything they needed to say into that press of their lips. 

She wouldn’t have been able to fight if she let herself worry about him and so she had taken all of her feelings for him, some that she still didn’t even understand herself, and she had locked them away inside her heart. Arya had told herself that there would be time to figure them out after the battle, assuming that they both survived. Yet here she was, alive and whole, and she could not see him anywhere. 

Arya had spotted him briefly in the battle as she tore through the castle. She almost hated to admit it but he was a much better fighter with that hammer than she had expected him to be. She hadn’t had the time to dwell on it of course, she just had to keep moving. But now there was no more moving left to do. Now it was time to find out if she needed to lock her heart on him forever. She had already lost him once; she didn’t know if she could stand to lose him again so soon after getting him back. But Arya knew better than most that you were given no choice in who you lost or when you lost them. 

People were talking to her but Arya simply stepped around them, her eyes moving quickly over both the living and the dead looking for his face. She told herself not to hope for anything and she had nearly convinced herself that she didn’t when her eyes fell on a familiar dragon glass hammer lying beside a massive piled of white walkers against one of the inner walls. Arya felt her stomach bottom out and the pain in her throat no longer came from the Night King’s tight grip on her. 

Forcing herself to breath quietly through her noise Arya walked calmly towards the hammer. No matter what she found she would not fall apart. She had faced Death so many times with so many different faces. Seeing Death wearing his face would be no different. 

Arya was so focused on the hammer that she was able to tune out the sounds of other’s happy reunions and the harsh sobs of those finding their loved ones in less happy ways. She heard Sansa calling her name and she ignored it, to focused on the task ahead of her. She was just beginning to question whether or not she would have to shift through the whole pile of bodies to find his when she saw the Hound move out of the corner of her eye. 

With his massive bulk out of her line of sight Arya was able to see past another smaller pile of bodies to where two men were dragging the bodies of the wights separate from the dead they had just lost. She recognized one as Podrick, the squire who trained with Lady Brienne. And the other... 

Seeing him alive and mainly unhurt Arya felt the last bit of coil around her heart snap and the sensation of it nearly knocked her backwards. She started towards him slowly at first but before she had taken more than a few steps she was already running. Even speeding towards him her body kept to her training and she avoided puddles that would splash if she stepped in them and arrows that would crack under foot on pure muscle memory. She made no sound as she sped across the courtyard towards him and with all of the noise surrounding them her flight was even more soundless. She had snuck up on the Night King and his procession not even an hour ago and they had not heard her approach yet somehow Gendry did. Arya didn’t know if he heard her or sensed her but when she was only half way towards him Gendry suddenly turned and spotted her. 

Arya could live to be a hundred years; she could live through ten winters and yet she still didn’t think she would ever forget the look on his face when he saw her. The relief made his shoulders fall as they untensed and he began to head towards her. Gendry opened his arms just as she leaped, crashing her entire weight against him. Gendry didn’t even flinch from the impact as he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against the side of her neck. She knew that people were surely watching but she had never given a damn about that before, she wasn’t about to start now. She didn’t care how improper or ’unladylike’ it was. 

She felt her heartbeat beginning to slow as she curled her fingers against the short hairs on his scalp, tugging him closer to her. Arya was grateful that she had never let herself imagine reuniting with him after the battle because this was so much better than anything she could have dreamed up in her head. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, each steady beat hammering into her that he truly was alive. 

His thick arms tightened around her and Gendry’s breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “It was you.” 

He didn’t say it like a question but Arya still nodded as best as she could in their tight embrace. She didn’t know how he could possibly have known already; they had barely been inside the courtyard for more than a couple of minutes. A heavy wall of emotions hit her as Arya realized that Gendry couldn't possibly have known for sure if it was her that defeated the Night King. He simply had that much faith in her. 

Her arms still wound around his neck Arya pulled back so that she could look Gendry in the eye. With him holding her up like this they were eye to eye for once. He took in the cut and blood on her face with a slight tinge of worry in his eyes but more than anything he drank her in like he couldn’t quite believe that he was holding her, that they had both survived. In truth, Arya couldn’t either. She ran a hand lightly down his face and Gendry rested his cheek against her palm. They were already close enough together that Arya could feel his warm breath tickling her skin but she felt like she could stand the distance between them no longer. 

Without a thought to who might be watching or the consequences Arya closed the small distance left between them and pressed her lips to Gendry’s. The kiss was far gentler than the ones they had shared just earlier that night and despite the taste of blood in her mouth (hers or his she wasn’t sure) it was still sweeter than anything she had ever tasted. 

The Night King was defeated, the Great War was over. Her brothers had survived. Her sister had survived. Gendry had survived. Somehow against all the odds _she_ had survived. 

Gendry’s kiss tasted like a promise, soon they wouldn’t just have to survive. 

Soon they would get to _live_.


End file.
